After a while they grew so tired of waiting quietly that they jumped up and began to run about.  Once or twice they were scared by the sounds of footsteps or voices at a little distance, but nobody came actually through the copse, and they soon grew more assured, and left off speaking in whispers and peeping timidly over their shoulders.  At last, “Sister,” said Duke, “don’t you think us might go just a teeny weeny bit out of the wood, to watch if us can’t see Tim coming down the road?  I know which side he went.”

“Us promised to stay here, didn’t us?” replied Pamela.

“Yes; but us would be staying here,” said Duke insinuatingly.  “It’s just to peep, you know, to see if Tim’s coming.  He’d be very glad, for p’raps he’ll not be quite sure where to find us again, and if us goes a little way along the road he’d see us quicker, and if us can’t see him us can come back here again.”

“Very well,” said Pamela, and, hand in hand, the two made their way out of the shelter of the trees and trotted half timidly a little way along the road.  It felt fresh and bright after the shady wood; some way before them they saw rows of houses, and already they had passed cottages standing separately in their gardens and a little to the right was a church with a high steeple.  Had they gone straight on they would soon have found themselves in Monkhaven High Street, where, at this moment, Tim was shut up in the police office.  But after wandering on a little way they got frightened, for no Tim was to be seen, and they stood still and looked at each other.

“P’raps this isn’t the way he went after all,” said Pamela.  They had already passed a road to the left, which also led into the town, though less directly.

“He might have gone that way,” said Duke, pointing back to this other road; “let’s go a little way along there and look.”

Pamela made no objection.  The side road turned out more attractive, for a little way from the corner stood a pretty white house in a really lovely garden.  It reminded them of their own home, and they stood at the gates peeping in, admiring the flower-beds and the nicely-kept lawn and smooth gravel paths, for the moment forgetting all about where they were and what had become of their only protector.

Suddenly, however, they were rudely brought back to the present and to the fears of the morning, for from where they were they caught sight of a burly blue-coated figure making his way to the front door from a side gate by which he had entered the garden; for this pretty house was no other than Squire Bartlemore’s, and the tall figure was that of Superintendent Boyds.  He could not possibly have seen them—­they were very tiny, and the bushes as well as the railings hid them from the view of any one not quite close to the gates.  But they saw him—­that was enough, and more than enough.